


Cure for Insomnia

by Mossgreen



Series: 2770 ab urbe condita [36]
Category: 2770 ab urbe condita - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Chattel slavery, Dirty Talk, Held Down, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insomnia, M/M, Master/Slave, Name-Calling, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Sexual Slavery, Slavery, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-21 05:24:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16570472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossgreen/pseuds/Mossgreen
Summary: Ven can't sleep. It seems that neither can his master.Contains sex which may be read as dubcon/non-con due to chattel slavery.For those of you who like this, and my other stuff: Please check out the2770 a.u.c. collectionwhich includes work by Imperial_Dragon and Vitzy - and I hope will eventually include things from other writers and creators (if any of you feel so inclined, that is! :D )





	Cure for Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maqcy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maqcy/gifts).



Ven lay awake. He had sleepless nights occasionally, who didn't, but could not get up and do anything about it. Free people didn't sleep chained to the wall, after all. He couldn't quite understand Master's insistence on that, Ven had no intention of wandering off, certainly no intention of running away. It would be nice to be able to sit in the garden, or even the atrium – there were goldfish in the _impluvium_ , and their antics and bright colours were always a pleasant distraction, when Ven had the time to be distracted.

To be fair, though, it had been a while since he had been chained overnight; he had been a year or so in this house before his master decided it was Ven he wanted for his _concubīnus_ , and none of the slaves who slept in the dormitory were chained. He had spent the first few weeks as his master's bed-slave sleeping on his own mattress in the corner, chained to the wall. Probably in case he decided to wander back to his narrow bed in the slave dormitory; it was still there for him, after all, and there were occasions, even now, when he slept there rather than in his master's room.

But now, he slept actually in his master's bed, and the reason he could not get up right now was because his master had thrown an arm and a leg over him, pinning him in place whether he wanted it or not.

He turned over carefully under the weight of his master's arm, hoping he wasn't disturbing his master, and pushed the bedclothes down. His master gave off heat like a hypocaust, and Ven was too hot. It didn't help the aching, though. Lately, he ached in a way that he never had before – his arse ached, stuffed full with a plastic butt-plug designed to keep him open and ready. His prick and balls ached, trapped tight in the leather harness he was never permitted to remove. His nipples ached, although that ache was growing less and could not really be called an ache, now. But they had likewise been claimed by his master, pierced to wear whatever jewellery his master wished. His jaw ached, from sucking his master off almost daily, although that particular ache was probably more of a mental one than a real one; he did not spend all day, every day, with his master's prick in his mouth.

He felt somehow as though he had fallen into some semblance of a Bacchanalia where he was the only participant – certainly the only receiver. Master never could, it was unmanly, unnatural, un-Roman, and so he took delight in tormenting Ven, who was only a slave, after all. 

His movement had seemed to disturb his owner because Master was pressing even closer, shifting his leg to pin Ven down, Master's sleep-tunic rucked up to allow his flaccid prick to press against Ven's smooth bum, nudging the base of the butt-plug inside him.

He subsided, having no wish to wake Master before morning, before it was time to get up. If his master woke now, Ven could see one of two, maybe three, things happening: either he would get turned onto his face and fucked, or he would be pushed down the bed and made to suck Master's cock (or even just warm it in his mouth till Master fell asleep again), or he would have to lie there listening to his master describe numerous humiliating, but erotic, things that he wanted to do to Ven. Or just listen to him whisper humiliating and erotic names and the like. 

Erotic for his master, that was. Not so much for Ven, despite the quiet sexy voice his master used at such times.

He must have moved wrong, or breathed funny or something because the atmosphere in the dark room had changed somehow, in a way that Ven couldn't quite work out at first.

"Are you awake, boy?" his master asked, quietly. His voice didn't sound at all sleepy, somehow, and Ven wondered just how long his master had actually been awake when he'd thought him asleep.

"Y... Yes, Master," he replied, cautious, wondering which of the three possibilities was about to happen. 

Number one, it seemed for his master took both his wrists in one hand, pinning them behind his back and rolled him onto his stomach. He spread his legs and tried not to sigh.

"You are a good boy, aren't you, pet?" His master sounded amused.

"I... I try to be, Master," he said, closing his eyes and waiting for the inevitable.

Except what followed was not the quick fuck he'd expected, and nor was it one of the other possibilities that had occurred to him. He was rearranged across the bed, to lie with his head in his master's lap, his master's erection next to his cheek, his master sitting up against the headboard of the bed and leaning over him. His legs were moved further apart and a single finger tapped the base of the plug inside him before teasing it out.

The bed shifted under him and master's grip on his wrists tightened, pressing them against his spine more as Master leaned further over him to reach the bottle of lube on the bedside table; Ven heard the pump action and the familiar slight wet-sounding slurp as his master one-handedly squirted some into his hand.

Master's hand cupped one buttock and a single finger touched his hole. He jerked at the unexpected sensation and Master's other hand tightened fractionally around his wrists, rebuking him. He tried to relax, which was just ridiculous – the notion of 'trying very hard to relax' was a totally illogical one, and never worked anyway.

His master was still teasing gently at his arsehole, and Ven was pinned down by his weight; his master was not hugely bigger than him in build or height, but he did have the advantage of his current physical position, with Ven on his stomach and his master half-sitting, leaning over him. He also had the advantage of being Ven's owner, with Ven unwilling to risk the consequences of disobeying an order, even an implicit one. Anyone would be heavier than you if they were leaning over you, Ven thought, shifting a little, trying to get more comfortable.

"Do stay still, boy," his master said, circling Ven's hole insistently with one finger, then leaving it altogether to cup his bum.

"So smooth you are. I knew I made the right choice as soon as I saw this delectable bum, with no hair anywhere to interfere," Master told him, going back to that soft slow teasing of his hole.

Ven whimpered, his brain beginning to turn to mush under the gentle onslaught. His prick was trapped beneath him, but even as his realisation about it coalesced into an actual thought, Master's finger trailed down from his hole to his balls, stroking them and making Ven moan and twitch, fighting the urge to actually move and disobey his master's earlier command.

"Pretty balls – prettier without hair, naturally, and far more sensitive," Master told him. He didn't need to say it, of course, but when did that ever stop his master saying anything? And what did 'pretty balls' even _mean_ , anyway? A prick and balls were just a prick and balls, some longer or wider or whatever than others, but never 'pretty'. 

"You cleaned yourself out before coming to bed, of course?" his master continued conversationally, precisely as though his hand wasn't teasing Ven to the point of distraction.

"Y... yes, Master. S...standing or- oh! -orders... Master!"

His master's thumb had pushed inside while his fingers kept playing with Ven's balls even as Ven had tried to answer the question.

He wanted to writhe, but couldn't, and turned his head in his master's lap, realising slightly too late that he was closer to his master's groin than he had thought, and his master's sleep-tunic had ridden up to his waist (accidentally or deliberately, it hardly mattered!)

"Don't just breathe all over it. Get that mouth of yours to work doing something useful." 

Oh. Option two, then. He nuzzled at his master's balls. If he actually put his mouth over his master's prick right now, he'd surely end up scraping him with his teeth, and that would end in misery – and of course it was Ven's duty to avoid doing that, rather than his master's to not put Ven in a position where that might happen.

The thumb withdrew from inside him and that finger was back smoothing its slow teasing circles around his hole. He whimpered, his nose full of his master's scent, struggling a little against the hand pinning him down, keeping his wrists imprisoned, so that he could lift his head and take his master's prick into his mouth.

There was a contented sigh above him as he began sucking; he was in totally the wrong position to give a full blow-job, there was no way he could take the full length into his mouth and throat lying as he was, but he didn't think that was quite what his master wanted right now.

A few minutes later, his master shifted, pulling out of his mouth even as his wrists were released only to be recaptured and positioned above his head as his master knelt over him, pushing into his lubed and prepared arse in a smooth thrust that made him groan into the mattress.

He was lying on his stomach now, with his master lying on top of him, being held down by his master's whole weight, his wrists still held pinned together. From Option Two to Option One, then. 

"Aren't you my pretty slut, boy?" Master breathed into Ven's ear, his voice low and sexy despite the words.

And Option Three as well! He felt his face grow hot; the combination of the humiliating words and the tone his master was using was arousing in a way he would never be able to explain, and it went straight to his cock, pinned against the mattress by the combined weight of Ven and his master.

"Cock-sucking little _pathice_. But you're _my_ little fuck-toy, Ven."

"Oh... fuck, Master." He wanted to move, to encourage his master to move, but had absolutely no leverage and could do nothing other than lie there. He didn't love it, but it was hard to remember that when his master did things to him that were so incredibly arousing.

_cinaedule meum, Ven_... That ' _meum_ ' did things to Ven's insides, even coupled with the insults – hearing that shouldn't be so damn hot, surely? But he'd never had ' _meum_ addressed to him in such a low, possessive, sexy tone of voice. 

"Yours, Master," he said, trying to wriggle a bit, to persuade his master to actually fuck him and not just to lie on top of him and make Ven's arse keep his cock warm for him. 

"All in good time," his master told him, a note of amusement in his voice now. "Impatient slut, aren't you? Ask nicely." 

Ven bit his lip and screwed his eyes closed, flushing even hotter. "Please, Master..." 

"Please what?" The words were accompanied with a roll of his master's hips that did nothing other than tease him. 

"Please, f- fuck me, Master...!" 

"As you ask so nicely." His master's weight was suddenly reduced, although it hadn't gone completely, as Ven was gripped between his master's knees. His wrists were grasped, one in each of his master's hands, still held fast above his head, as Master began to fuck him, thrusting into his arse in a way that made the breath catch in Ven's throat as he tried to rock back, to meet each thrust as his master's prick pushed into him. 

"My good boy. Such a nice tight arse – you're so good to fuck." 

Ven groaned, trying to thrust against the mattress to get some friction to his own cock. "Please, Master... harder..." 

"Harder, what, boy?" 

"P... please... fuck... fuck me... h... harder... Master." 

"Good boy. Going to pound you into the mattress, pet." 

"Oh, f... fuck... Need to... Need to come, Master... please...!" 

His wrists were released and a hand fisted itself into his hair, pulling his head back and Master breathed into his ear, "You're _my_ good boy, Ven. You may come." 

He couldn't hold back any more and the words sent him over the edge, spilling into the mattress, uncaring that he was going to end up sleeping in the damp patch created. 

He tightened around his master's cock as he came, and was not surprised that his master gave one final hard thrust and spent deep inside him. They were both breathing hard when his master collapsed on top of him again, taking a moment before rolling them both over, to resume the position they had been lying in when Ven first woke, except Master had wrapped his arm around Ven and pulled him hard back against his chest. 

" _My_ pretty fuck-toy." 

"Yours, Master," Ven replied, his eyes drifting closed, his heartbeat taking its time to slow down. He felt sated, tired, and owned. And it felt... good, in some peculiar way he had no energy to examine right now. 

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
>  _impluvium_ \- the shallow pool in the middle of the atrium of a Roman house  
>  _concubīnus_ \- male concubine/bed-slave  
>  _pathice_ \- vocative of 'pathicus', an adult male who takes the passive role in a relationship  
>  _cinaede_ \- vocative of 'cinaedus', a hard to translate word denoting a catamite or bottom; I've translated it 'fuck-toy' here  
>  _cinaedule meum, Ven_ \- 'my little fuck-toy, Ven'. 'cinaedule' is the diminutive of 'cinaede' - if I've got my Latin right! ('Caligula', the third Emperor of Rome, is known by his nickname which translates 'Little Boots' from his childhood footwear of child-size _caligae_ , the heavy sandals worn by Roman legionaries)  
>  _meum_ my, mine


End file.
